The Couple Next Door
by fuzzydream archive
Summary: "If Lord Grantham and his daughter could accept these people into their bedrooms to dress and undress them, I wasn't going to complain about them being our neighbours."


**_A/N:_** _I had this idea a while ago, but managed to finish it this week. It's rather different, but I hope you like it. Let me know your thoughts - reviews make me happy! Thanks Terrie for editing!_

 ** _Disclaimer:_** _I don't own Downton Abbey._

* * *

 ** _The Couple Next Door_** by _fuzzydream_

* * *

I like changes. I'm not one of those old people set in their ways; I enjoy seeing the modern world changing around us, albeit from afar. I know some people don't like the way things turned after the war, but I think that the world needs to change in order to get right. So when we learned that our new neighbours would be workers from the Abbey, I was quite happy. It would be nice to have people in such positions nearby. And even when I learned that they would be the valet who had been to prison and his wife, I was quite curious. My husband wasn't very keen on the idea; Peter is a little more skeptical about the world than I am, I won't lie. But if Lord Grantham and his daughter could accept these people into their bedrooms to dress and undress them, I wasn't going to complain about them being our neighbours.

It was also quite nice that Mrs Bow was leaving. We did get on well enough, but she had a terrible habit of prying into other people's lives - now, I don't mind a little gossiping here and there, but I'd rather not meddle. Susan is a little too meddling for her own good.

I saw them moving out and about for some days, fixing everything. Susan was never a good housekeeper, and she didn't spend much time at home at all. I knew the woman, Mrs Bates - a lovely young woman, if you ask me. Pretty and friendly. In a small village like Downton, it doesn't take a long time to know everyone, even the servants at the big house. In fact, Mrs Bates and I had shared our fair of quick conversations in the past. Her husband was a bit of a mystery to me. Everyone knew, even us, of his imprisonment. Funnily enough, I could see him as someone who would be in prison. He just has the mysterious air about him.

And indeed, they moved in. I watched the move from afar, during the day. My husband and I live alone and I don't have much company during the day, except for when my daughter-in-law visits. I was a little worried about the Bateses. No, not worried. Perhaps concerned. But Mrs Bates smiled politely at me whenever she saw me peeking through the curtains, and one time I watched Mr Bates out to get coal. He has a bit of a tough exterior, Mr Bates. I only see him smile when she's with him. Other than that, he's polite enough but doesn't say much.

The first days were uneventful. I usually saw them leaving early in the morning, and I rarely saw them arriving at night. But I managed to catch Mrs Bates one afternoon, just as I was returning from the village. I asked her about the cottage, and she gave me a smile.

"It's lovely," she said, and I must say I was surprised at how honest she seemed. "We've had to do some decorating but we're trying to use as much of what we've got as possible. I hope we can get upstairs all finished today."

Mrs Bates was a bright woman - she had a light in her that I've seen in very few people. She seems to me that she's one of those people who see the good in everything and everyone. The way she talked of her new home was as if she was talking about a castle as big as Downton Abbey or perhaps even bigger. I know for a fact their cottage isn't much different than ours - a thick wall separates our homes, and they are both small and quite simple. But to Mrs Bates, I suppose it was the world.

I wished her luck and she thanked me before slipping into her home. We couldn't hear much from our cottage, but maybe it was because we were barely awake when they were home.

That night, however, Peter and I were about to go to bed when I saw their silhouettes in the night. It wasn't so late, and they were both talking quietly, but animatedly. I imagine Mr Bates is very talkative with his wife, because that's the most I've heard of his voice. Peter went to bed soon - he's a very heavy sleeper, mind you - but I was awake for a while longer. My daughter-in-law was pregnant and I was knitting as often as I could. It was our first grandchild, after all. I was entitled to be excited.

It didn't take too long for the noises to start. I barely heard voices, really. The walls were thick enough. But I hadn't realised that our bedroom was probably right next to theirs. And it took me a few minutes before I made the connection to my conversation with Mrs Bates and the rhythmic thud against the wall. I'm sure my eyes widened and I blushed, but then I was young and newly married once.

I think they managed to finish decorating upstairs that afternoon.

* * *

Now, do not judge me. Much as I do not wish to meddle into other people's affairs, I am a simple housewife. I do my errands in the village and am always back home by tea to cook my husband dinner. We're creatures of habit, him and I. Mr Chirk is a bit of a loner, and I rarely spoke to him besides greetings. Mrs Bates is the only neighbour of ours that I often stopped to chat with. Silly things, such as the weather and the flowers in front of our little cottages. Little by little, I came to know her quite well. She always asked me to call her by her first name, Anna, but I couldn't. I'm sure that wasn't what people called her in the big house, and I certainly didn't want to defy their rules, especially with the way she always referred to her husband as Mr Bates.

I admit I was a little disappointed when I never learned anything from the big house. Mrs Bates was Lady Mary's lady's maid, and I'm sure she must know so many secrets. But the Bateses were as incorruptible as they were nice people, and even my husband came to like them. In a way, it made me like Mrs Bates even more, even if she was unwilling to give me something to gossip about. It made me quite bitter as Susan always had something to say when we met, since she now lives in the village, and our little neighbourhood of cottages don't offer much to talk about.

Mr and Mrs Bates didn't receive many visitors, and whenever they arrived home early or had the day off, they usually spent it together, inside their home.

By then, I was used to their noises, here and there. Sometimes I heard something falling, other times it was the now familiar thud against the bedroom wall. I wondered then if they wanted children - they certainly seemed to be doing what was needed often enough. I won't lie; I even asked Mrs Bates once, when she finally accepted my invitation for tea. My grandson Teddy had just been born a very big baby, and we were talking about that.

"Oh, we're not worried about that," Mrs Bates had said dismissively. Perhaps I was indeed intruding. "We have plans, and we certainly won't mind if it happens sooner rather than later, but... We've been apart for so long that I like that's just the two of us. For now, of course," she had laughed. "Give my congratulations to Hattie and the baby, Mrs Tripp."

She was right, I figured. Peter and I didn't have much time as a couple before my son James was born. I wasn't even too bothered by their nightly activities; sometimes I barely heard it, since I was fast asleep, and other times I just retreated into the drawing room for a cup of tea. I think that perhaps Mr Bates knew I knew, because every day after the noises he would blush ever so slightly and give me a tight smile. Mrs Bates never seemed to think I could know.

It was quite fine for me. They didn't complain when our cat used their garden as his personal bathroom, and I didn't complain about their activities. Common cordiality was part of a neighbourhood, after all.

* * *

Between their early morning outings and late night arrivals, sometimes I spent days without seeing Mr or Mrs Bates. Their life was quite busy, and I knew that sometimes both of them travelled with the family. Still, I became worried when I didn't see Mrs Bates for almost two weeks.

"Lady Grantham's lady's maid left, so Mrs Bates has been seeing to her and Lady Mary," Mr Bates told me when I asked of her. His smile was strained, I noticed. "So we thought it was best if Mrs Bates stayed at the house until someone else is hired."

It was unusual, but I had no reason to doubt him. It was only when I was at the village that I saw a woman with that odd young man who served as a butler or whatever that he was, that I knew something was wrong. It was Susan who told me she was Lady Grantham's new maid, so it was very odd that I had yet to see Mrs Bates around.

I managed to see Mr Bates quite often during those weeks. He left home earlier than he usually did when he was with his wife. I almost asked him about his wife again, but we never went beyond pleasantries. And he always looked so worried. Something wasn't right. And for some reason, I was worried too.

"Why are you fretting over this?" Peter told me one evening during dinner. "These modern couples always have problems," he shook his head. My husband seems to think modern couples are more different from us than they really are. "You should go to the village more, fill your head with stuff. When you have nothing to think, you end up thinking what you shouldn't."

He was right, but I was still concerned about it all. It was ever so odd, not to see Mrs Bates' easy smiles and bright eyes. She had become a comforting figure to me, of sorts; I liked the attention she gave me whenever we talked. Mrs Bates truly listened and seemed interested in whatever silliness I might have to say. I know that even Mr Chirk likes her, and that is indeed saying something.

Perhaps I shouldn't have worried too much, because a few days later I saw Mr Bates carrying a little suitcase and Mrs Bates walking beside him. They were not holding hands, but from the way he smiled at her, I guess that whatever had happened between them was resolved.

I was proved wrong, however. Mrs Bates smiled and greeted me the next day, but her eyes were hollow and her smile did not reach them. She looked smaller somehow, her voice lacked its usual brightness. I can't pretend that I know what happened, for I really don't. I just knew that something terrible had happened to the poor girl, and I couldn't offer much besides a smile and tea whenever she felt like it.

Still, my neighbours' routine soon was the same as it had always been. They left early in the morning, always together. And they reappeared at night, or whenever they had the odd day off. But a few things changed; there were days where they didn't hold hands. Their walks were almost always silent - I rarely heard their voices anymore.

And, after a few nights, I noticed that the soft thud I listened against the wall a few times a week was permanently gone.

* * *

I saw Mrs Bates coming down the road alone a few weeks later, which was a bit unusual. It was hard to see her without her husband these days. It was late afternoon, and I had just fetched coal for the evening.

"Hello, Mrs Bates," I said. It was only then, when she was closer to me, that I noticed that her eyes were brimming red. "Oh, dear. Is everything all right, Mrs Bates?"

Mrs Bates had shaken her head, but I knew there was more to it than that. I was silent. Eventually, she spoke.

"Lord Grantham is going to America," she said quietly, rolling her eyes in an attempt not to cry. "Mr Bates is going with him, of course. I'm just being silly."

"That's not silly," I told her at once. Lord knew what I would feel like if Peter left me alone for a long time. "When's he going?"

Mrs Bates shook her head. "Soon, I suppose. As soon as possible."

I managed to convince her to have a cup of tea then, because I think she wanted some company in that rather cold afternoon. She felt silly for wanting him here at Downton with her when he could see the world, and she wouldn't and couldn't stop him from going. I'm quite sure they were used to being apart for some time. I knew it was often that only one half of the couple was at the cottage, considering how many trips to London Lord Grantham did. But of course America was different. A longer period of time, I imagine it.

"You know that we are always here," I tried to comfort her as best as I could. "I'm never out for long, and Peter is always here when the sun is gone. You won't be alone."

"I feel safe at home, but not at -" she stopped short. "I just wish he didn't have to go, that's all."

I pretended I didn't notice the dark circles under her eyes and how thin she was becoming. I resigned myself in the fact that I didn't know anything of what had transpired between the couple. I had my suspicions, I won't deny it. And I was even suspicious of Mr Bates, but whenever I saw them together my doubts vanished. It was clear that they adored each other, and still do. From her desperation upon seeing her husband gone, I could sense that perhaps the trouble hadn't been between them - I was willing to bet someone had brought trouble over, and it hadn't been pretty.

Days later, I learned that Lord Grantham did go to America, but he did not take his valet with him.

* * *

Life went on. I was quite busy during that time; my daughter-in-law, Hattie, wanted to go back to working in the tea shop, and I started to look after my little grandson, Theodore. To this day, I cannot leave that child alone - whenever I do, he seems to stir trouble. He's a good little boy, but he's a little clumsy and too active for his own good. Anyway… Slowly, Mrs Bates became more cheerful, and I rather liked that. Once, she had even laughed at Theodore. Her eyes became wistful. Perhaps something was still bothering her, but she didn't want to show it. Mr Bates, on the other hand, was his usual quiet self. Still, I started to hear their voices again, when they arrived home. One night, I thought I heard the once familiar thud against the wall, but I was too sleepy to really mind.

People talked. A police officer at Downton Abbey wasn't something that we saw every day. And then, adding to that, a Scotland Yard officer was over. It was all ever so odd, and some would bet that Lady Mary would finally show her true self beneath that cold exterior - and that was something I had always wondered about, how a warm person such as Mrs Bates could serve someone as cold as Lady Mary Crawley - whilst others would bet that the police had come for Mr Bates once again. I didn't really mind, because after knowing Mr and Mrs Bates for a few years, I didn't think they would ever have any trouble with the law. They were quiet, polite and nice. We couldn't expect more from neighbours, and Peter even mentioned how much he liked Mr Bates.

"He told me he thought it would rain, and he was right alright!" Peter had said. For a land worker such as he is, that's the same as saying Mr Bates was a very fine man indeed.

And summer was spent without much trouble. The family had gone to London and Mr and Mrs Bates went with them. I was thankful - just a few days prior to their departure, our bedroom window was left open and so was theirs, and I couldn't help but overhear what I most likely shouldn't. I was happy that they seemed to have overcome whatever trouble they might have had, but I didn't need to hear the details of their reunion.

When the family was back, however, only Mr Bates returned, and he was the one to tell me, with a strained tone and obviously not wanting his emotions to take the best out of him, that his wife was in prison.

It was one piece of gossip I did not share.

Out of everyone in the village, it seemed to me that Mrs Bates was the least likely person to have committed a crime. I was shocked. The woman couldn't hurt a fly, and her home was meticulously clean and very homely, despite the fact that they were barely home for most of the day.

He was serious during the war memorial, which we dutifully attended, having lost our dear Robbie during the war. Mr Bates had looked very out of place without his wife - perhaps because I was too used to seeing them together. I could only hope this was a huge mistake. Peter and I couldn't do much to help the poor man, but I gave him a large piece of cake one afternoon and I wondered how he was dealing with an empty house all by himself. I'm sure that men can get on all right without a woman, but I could only wonder how the place was being cleaned and taken care of without a feminine touch.

I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but she did come back - only for that to happen, he had to go away. I couldn't understand how they were both suspects in the murder of someone like that; it appeared that the victim in question was a visiting valet. But Mrs Bates had looked at me with sad eyes when I caught her leaving alone one early morning, and she greeted me as if nothing had ever changed. I didn't have the heart to enquire about what had happened.

A few days before Christmas, however, Mrs Bates knocked on our door. Theodore was napping and I was knitting by myself. She had brought with her a basket - I could see a pie and a few biscuits inside.

"Mr Bates told me that you and Mr Tripp were nice to him while I was away," she had offered as a reason for the gift, once I said I couldn't accept it. "Please, take it. It means the world to me that you kept an eye on him. The pie was made by Mrs Patmore, but I baked the biscuits. They are Mr Bates's favourite."

Her tone was insisting and her eyes were alert but sad. I couldn't blame her. I invited her to come in and she mentioned she would have to go back to work soon, but I insisted that she must have time for a cup of tea. I had a feeling poor Mrs Bates needed to talk to someone.

And that she did. She told me that she didn't know where Mr Bates was exactly, and that she missed him. I asked about her work and she didn't say much besides being used to his presence there as well. It seemed that her world was gone with him, and while I knew that in a modern world such as ours women had more rights to live by their own rules. In that moment, however, I felt sympathy for Mrs Bates - it wasn't easy to put your happiness into another person's soul and have it taken from you like that. I did as best as I could - I told her to look after herself and that I was sure he would be back soon. I couldn't be certain, but knowing them, I had a feeling they would manage to reunite one way or the other.

We spent Christmas with my son and his family and I caught myself thinking of poor Mrs Bates, alone in that cottage. Part of me wondered if she had decorated and put together a little tree, but I couldn't see that happening.

I shouldn't have worried, because on the next evening I saw Mr Bates fetching some coal and I heard Mrs Bates' laughter when he opened the door to their home.

* * *

I hadn't noticed anything wrong during the first months of 1925, which was when the Bateses were together and, from what I could see, inseparable. I suspect their trips to London with their employers were becoming less frequent, because I did not notice that either of them was gone.

And they looked and sounded very happy, which was quite good in my book.

Their windows were often open when they were home in the afternoons, and I could often hear Mrs Bates's laughter whenever I walked by. Once, I caught them leaving for what I imagine that would be a picnic. Other times, I would hear them talking in the back garden, sometimes reading together. I never listened for long - I never wanted to pry, and I never did pry.

But Mrs Bates's smiles were frequent now, and even her husband seemed a little more open than before. One afternoon, she managed to get Teddy for me - the boy was set on running away from home, as he calls it whenever he crosses the road without asking, and just as I was about to go after him, little Teddy stumbled and fell right in front of Mrs Bates. She took to the task of getting him up gracefully, I must say.

"There, it was nothing. Just a little stumble," Mrs Bates said as Teddy made to cry. My grandson took a deep breath, however, and his cries were contained. He would later complain and cry of his little stumble and I would feed him biscuits and let him play with Peter's little train collection. Men are naturally terrible patients, and little Teddy is no different. "Hello, Mrs Tripp."

"Afternoon, Mrs Bates. Sorry about Teddy," I mumbled as my grandson ran back into the house. I watched as Mrs Bates looked after him.

"That's fine. He's just a child," she said, and took a deep breath. She smiled. "I best get going. Mr Bates will be home shortly for tea."

I smiled and let her go. And I like to think that I knew then that the Bateses didn't want to wait to have children anymore.

* * *

It was still a few months before it happened. Over a year, in fact. I suppose I expected to see evidence at any moment, but it took a long time before I did. And it was on a sunny afternoon that I saw Mr and Mrs Bates coming home, after luncheon. I was just about to go to the village and little Teddy was impatiently walking ahead of me. Mr Bates had smiled at my little grandson and he and his wife exchanged a secret look. Her silhouette gave no doubt as to what her condition was, even in the black coat she often wore. It had been a few days since I had seen them both up close.

Teddy's toy escaped his hand just as he passed by the Bateses, and it was Mr Bates who gave it back to my boy. He smiled, and Teddy smiled back. I couldn't contain myself at this point.

"You should get used to it, Mr Bates," I told him and they both looked up at me. "Children are always throwing things around."

"I look forward to it, Mrs Tripp," the man replied with a pleasant smile.

"I'm sure you do. Congratulations," I told them both. "When should we expect the newest neighbour?"

Mrs Bates giggled. Mr Bates looked at her in adoration. "Around Christmas, apparently."

"What a lovely Christmas present it shall be," I commented. Teddy was almost reaching the end of the road by now. "I best get going or I'll lose that one out of my sight. And dear, in case you might need anything or any help, we're just next door, as always."

"Thank you, Mrs Tripp," it was Mr Bates who spoke.

"Have a lovely day, Mrs Tripp," she wished, and I had no doubt she was honest about that.

Now that was a piece of gossip I took pleasure in sharing.

* * *

Indeed, it was Christmas Day when it happened. It was quite a commotion; Mrs Bates had felt poorly while at work - the girl was still working at this point, though I'm not sure how - and even Peter had heard it, which is saying something. We had a bit of a difficult night; I had offered them my help, as ordinary as that sounds, but it seemed that Mrs Bates had quite a team there for them, which included Dr Clarkson, Mrs Crawley and Mrs Carson, with even Lady Mary visiting. Poor Mr Bates was sitting alone in the drawing room when I checked, so I took the liberty of bringing him some food and tea. Mrs Bates would be thankful later.

Things progressed quite quickly and the baby was born before midnight - a Christmas baby, through and through. I learned on the next morning that it was a girl, and Mr Bates made sure to let me know that mother and baby were healthy and absolutely perfect. I had never seen the man looking so happy.

"She's got Anna's eyes," he said, "and a little bit of hair, not much. And she's got quite an appetite. Anna thinks she may have my nose, but I hope that's not the case," he commented with a laugh. "Anna would love a visit, I'm sure, in a few days."

"I'll do just that, but let her rest for now. I'm sure you both need time to get used to the baby," I told him softly. It was impossible not to feel his infecting joy. "And what's her name, Mr Bates?"

"Mary. Mary Louise Bates," Mr Bates replied as he slowly walked away. "Have a good day, Mrs Tripp."

Goodness me. Mr and Mrs Bates probably didn't know that my name is Mary, but I didn't mind sharing a name with this little someone.

* * *

I did go visit Mrs Bates, a few days after New Year. Baby Mary was a beauty - very similar to her mother really, and her chubby arms left no doubt that she was being very well taken care of. Mrs Bates received me in the drawing room, and I must say that I envied her silhouette so soon after giving birth. She was still glowing every bit as much as she had during pregnancy.

"Mary's not very fussy," Mrs Bates told me then once I passed the baby back to her. "She whimpers when she's hungry or needs a change. I'm starting to recognise which one is which."

"Let's hope she remains that way," I commented humourously.

Mrs Bates nodded. "She's no trouble. She wakes up for a feeding once or twice, but I don't mind. And Mr Bates helps as much as he can."

That surprised me. "Really?"

Mrs Bates shook her head, holding the bundle in her arms and smiling when the baby gurgled. "I suppose… It took us so long to have her. And she was our third attempt. And now she's here. He wants to be a part of it all."

I allowed myself to touch her hand, and her eyes held emotion when they looked into mine. "She's here now, and she's loved. It happens," I told her softly. "I lost two after Robbie, but then we had James. God works in mysterious ways."

Mrs Bates simply nodded and gave me a weak smile.

"That's true," she said at last. "You were right, you know. She was the perfect Christmas present."

I laughed. "My dear, I'm always right."

* * *

Now, a knock on the door announces that we have visitors. It's a Saturday, and Peter is home. When I open the door, it reveals Mr and Mrs Bates, her holding the baby, who is growing to be the spitting image of her mother at four months old, and I invite them in with a smile.

"We can't be long," Mr Bates says. "We're due on the 9 o'clock train."

"We just came to say goodbye," it was Mrs Bates who says it, with a watery smile. "Thank you for all you've done for us."

"Oh, you've been good neighbours, lass," Peter said, coming to stand beside me. "Don't worry about it. We wish you luck."

They had told us about a week ago that they would be going to Whitby, and run a small hotel there. It may be silly of me to say it - we were never particularly close - but I'll miss them. I can understand why they would choose to leave. Mr Bates is barely home during the day, and Mrs Bates is alone with the baby all day. When they are so used to being around each other, I'd think that that would be a big change.

"And the best of happiness to the three of you," I say, and Mrs Bates beams. The baby is asleep in her arms. Her blonde hair is even lighter than her mother's.

We talk for a little longer, just for a few minutes. Peter asks Mr Bates if everything's settled for when they arrive and I ask Mrs Bates if she's excited about moving.

"Yes," she says resolutely. "Downton has been our home for so long, but... I think it's time to say goodbye."

The couple share a look and soon they are on their way. The baby doesn't even stir as they make their walk slowly, probably to get their things in their cottage. I imagine that they will stop by Downton Abbey before leaving. It's funny to think that, at the end of the day, they will be starting a new life. Their little Mary won't even remember living at Downton.

I find myself sniffing when I reach the settee, and Peter looks at me strangely.

"Come on," he says, "this can be interesting. Perhaps the cottage won't be taken by a newly wedded couple."

Rumour has it that Mr Molesley, Downton Abbey's new butler, may be in want of a place to live in the future, if he marries. I'm sure that, if it does indeed happen, he and his wife will have to live somewhere close. But I don't say any of this to Peter.

"The Bateses are hardly newly weds, Peter," I tell him.

"Well, they certainly act like they are," he mumbles.

I sigh. I'm sure the Bateses will be happy wherever they are, so long as nothing keeps them apart. And surely enough, they have the baby to look after now. I've said it before, I like changes. Even though I'm sad that they're leaving, I'm sure this will be a good one for them.

As for us... Well, maybe the future Mrs Molesley will be willing to share some secrets.


End file.
